


Mud

by beekeepercain



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bathing/Washing, Bathtubs, Brothers, Childhood, Gen, Parent John Winchester, Young Dean Winchester, Young Sam Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-23
Updated: 2017-04-23
Packaged: 2018-10-23 02:15:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10710066
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beekeepercain/pseuds/beekeepercain
Summary: Dean's supposed to watch Sam. Sam doesn't want to be watched.





	Mud

**Author's Note:**

> Tumblr prompt. :>

* * *

 

 

Dean finds him too late. He’d turned around for just a few moments - well, he’d went to get a drink from the vending machine, really, but _still_  - and Sam was just gone. Vanished into thin air. And that’s bad; he’s only four years old. John would _kill_  him if Sam went missing, and worse, if something happened to him… Dean would never forgive himself for it. It’s not about John, even if John’s rage is the first thing he really thinks about. No, it’s worse. It gnaws at his insides when he looks for Sam everywhere. _E-v-e-r-y-w-h-e-r-e._  It’s pointless.

So, he finds him too late.

Sam’s fine, sure. As fine as a missing four-years-old can be. But he’s sitting in a puddle, and he’s _gross._  He’s gone all around the motel and while he’s probably lost, he hasn’t _noticed_  it yet - he’s just fine, for now, in his own head. And Dean’s angry, he’s boiling over for a second, and all he wants to do is just slap his dumb brother on his chubby cheek and make him cry for making him worry so much, but he can’t. He’s not very good at being mean, really. So he just walks up to him and manhandles him up from the puddle, his clothes all dripping and his fingers covered in thick mud like icing, and he’s wiping it all over himself and Dean when he struggles to get out of his grip.

Gross, gross, gross.

Sam whines and cries when Dean grabs him by the arms and starts hauling him back inside. He’s got to clean this mess before John comes back from the store and he’s been gone for ages already, so if he comes midway through, he might know that Dean lost his brother for a while. He’d never forgive Dean for it, Dean knows it.

Sam’s throwing a full-on tantrum by the time Dean’s dragged him back to the motel room and into the bathroom. He tries to escape when Dean fights off each piece of muddy clothing off of him, screaming and hitting him on the arms and biting him and crying like a baby, and it’s _stupid_ , but Dean’s not giving up. He wrestles his brother into the tub and starts pouring water on him, and finally, Sam’s given up, too; he sits on the bottom, crying, repeating to Dean that he’s hurt him and he’s unfair and he wants out, but he’s not doing a thing to make his wishes reality anymore, so it’s fine. Finally, Dean sits down on the side of the tub and gives himself a moment to breathe. It’s then that he realises he’s covered in mud now, too.

“Ugh, Sam,” he groans and does away with his shirt, angrily throwing it on top of the toilet seat, “Why do you have to be so nasty?”

“I just wanted to play,” Sam moans and hits the water before wiping his dirty face with the back of his hand.  
The water that drips off of him is brown, just like the water pooling in the tub so far. Dean watches him for a moment before sighing.

“That’s disgusting,” he puffs, picking some filth off of Sam’s baby curls, “You’re lucky you’re cute, because if you weren’t, I’d be really mad right now.”

Sam looks at him with an angry face before bowing back down and staring upsetly at the rising water between his legs. He slaps it again with his hand and some drops land on Dean’s worn jeans that are starting to grow too short for his legs.

“Stop being a baby,” he mumbles and twists the knob to make the water flow faster, “You ran off. You could have been hurt. What would Dad say if I lost you? You ever think about that?”

Dean pours some shampoo on his palm and spreads it into Sam’s hair. Sam sighs heavily and lets him do it, still sulking.

“Seriously, Sam. Tell me, what do you think Dad would say if you ran off and I couldn’t find you?”

“He’d be mad.”

“You want him to be mad at me? Because I’m pretty sure he’d _kill_  me for it, mad doesn’t cut it, idiot.”

“You wouldn’t let me go behind the house.”

“No, because you’re too young and stupid to go off on your own. Listen to me, Sam. I’m serious. If you got hurt, I’d die.”

Sam peers at him and looks worried for once. He doesn’t get to answer before the door slams in the other room, and Dean freezes momentarily before picking himself up.

“Now I’ve got to tell Dad,” he mutters, turning off the water that has now finally reached Sam’s waist, “Just stay here and say nothing so we don’t get in any trouble.”

Sam nods, and the worry on his features grows. He shifts in the tub and sighs, rubbing at his foamy forehead as Dean leaves the room half-naked. He stands in the doorway when John puts down the groceries on the motel room table and gives him a weary smile.

“Sorry, kid. Took me longer than I thought it would. Ran into some problems but it’s all alright now. Where’s Sam?”

“Taking a bath. He’s filthy.”

“What happened?”

Dean shrugs.  
“I let him play in the mud,” he says calculatively, “I didn’t think how dirty it would get him. But it’s okay, I’m taking care of it.”

“Well, if it’s bad, you’ve got to clean up the bathroom afterwards, too.”

Solemnly, Dean nods.  
“Right. I’ll do that,” he promises in a defeated voice, “I - there’s a lot of laundry, Dad.”

John sighs as he sits down on the chair, fingers running over the big bag of groceries.  
“Alright. I’ll take it to the laundromat later. Just put it all in the sink and leave it there, I’ll pick it up once I’m ready.”

He gives his son a look and smiles again.  
“It’s not the end of the world, kiddo.”

Dean nods.  
“Right,” he says and moves back towards the bathroom door, “I’ll - go wash Sammy, then.”

“You do that.”


End file.
